Falling Down the Rabbit Hole
by Lenni George
Summary: A murder, romance, and conflict for Mac Taylor. Mac/OC. Thank you to Susan for your all of your help - couldn't have done it with out you! Would anyone like a sequel?
1. Chapter 1

Mac Taylor knew he was getting older; the mirror reminded him of it each morning. Most days, he didn't let it bother him, but in the past few days, it had been harder and harder to ignore. He didn't like to think of his own mortality, but sometimes events beyond his control caused it to smack him right between the eyes. Finding out that Frank Cesarone, his first partner upon making detective, was dead, counted as one of those moments.

Frank's wife, Andrea, found him lying on their kitchen floor when she returned home from shopping Saturday afternoon. Despite finding that he had no pulse, she called 911 and tried to resuscitate him.

The EMTs pronounced him dead when they arrived on the scene, his death an apparent heart attack. His body was transported to the morgue, pending funeral arrangements, and no further investigation was requested. At dawn on Sunday morning, the morgue clerk slid Frank into a holding drawer and handed off his paperwork to be held for the funeral director.

As the saying goes, bad news travels fast. Mac heard about Frank when he walked into his office on Sunday morning and found Don Flack, who had gotten the call on his way into work that morning, waiting for him. Shortly after Don left his office, Andrea called.

She was, understandably, devastated. Despite the fact that Frank had 15 years on her, they'd had a solid marriage. Sure, things hadn't been so great in the year or so since he had retired, but they were still very much together, or so Frank had told Mac when they met up for a beer only a month before.

When Sid Hammerback arrived at the morgue, he recognized Frank's name. As he performed his usual tests and went about his routine, he got the feeling that something "just didn't look right." He had no choice but to declare Frank's death suspicious and perform an autopsy. That done, Sid released the body to the funeral home and the viewing was set for Wednesday night, funeral for Thursday morning.

Drea Cesarone was a strong woman. She'd have to be to be married to Frank, but it was more than that. A prosecuting attorney with the Manhattan DA's office, Drea had perfected her game face. Mac had seen her in court; she was strong, confident, and no matter what, she didn't let on when she was rattled.

Away from court, she was laid back, relaxed, and had a dry sense of humor. He'd hit it off with her right away and considered her as much of a friend as Frank. When he walked into the funeral home on Wednesday evening, Drea was doing her best to be the calm, cool, assistant DA, but he could see the grieving wife beneath the surface.

Frank's family sat off on their own, leaving Drea alone near the casket to greet the mourners who came to pay their last respects. Despite Drea's repeated attempts to get close to her husband's family, they never let her in. Frank had been engaged to a woman from his Brooklyn neighborhood, a widow with two teenage sons. To hear Frank tell it, it was more of an arrangement than a romance.

All was on schedule for a wedding, until Drea came along. Fifteen years Frank's junior and a hard charging assistant to the DA in Manhattan, her spirit and fire intrigued Frank from the moment he met her. The fact that she was equally intrigued was so much the better. Frank fell hard.

When Drea finally agreed to have dinner with him, he broke off his engagement, simple as that. His family held her fully responsible and refused to accept that their oldest son chose to be involved with a "home wrecker." Despite the fact that their marriage had lasted for years, the Cesarones still held the same feelings towards her.

Mac debated standing in the long line and waiting his turn to see her, but one look at her told him she needed support. He slipped past the line and walked over to where she stood. When she spotted him, her grateful smile told him that he'd made the right decision.

He stayed by her side for the rest of the evening, driving her home and making sure she was settled before heading back to his own apartment. The next morning, he resumed his position at her side and stayed there through the burial and the luncheon afterward.

When it was all over, they went back to the Chelsea apartment that Frank and Drea called home. Mac always liked the place; it was open and airy, a rarity in Manhattan apartments. There were a good many nights that the three of them sat on the small patio, drinking beer and talking into the wee hours of the morning.

Mac knew his team had gone through the apartment. They were never careless, but he knew they'd taken extra care with Drea and Frank's belongings. Still, there was a lot of clean up to do after they'd been through. From the looks of things, Drea had done a good job with it.

It was a warm fall night and they ended up sitting out on the patio, sharing a bottle of Jamison's and talking. They shared many memories of Frank, some good, some not so good, as they drank.

It was sometime after midnight when she turned to him and asked, "How do you do it, Mac? How do you go on after losing the person who means most to you in the world?"

He thought for a moment, then replied, "I don't know, Drea. I guess you just keep moving forward."

She shook her head. "Just that easy, huh?"

"There's nothing easy about it," he admitted. "Starting over after Claire is the hardest thing I've ever done."

"But you and Claire…" she trailed off, as searching for the rights words. "Frank and I…I mean…I love him...I loved him so much...but since he retired, things weren't the same. He didn't adjust well to being home. My caseload is outrageous and I wasn't around."

She raised her eyes to him and he could see her pain.

"When I was here, we argued over everything, the house, the bills, hell, even where to go to dinner, or whether we should stay in and save money. Frank swore that because he was only bringing in his pension, we would go bankrupt, but Mac, we were fine. I got a raise in July of last year and between his pension and my raise, we more than made up for his salary. I just kept going…and now, he's gone."

Mac reached out and placed his hand on her arm in reassurance.

"Do they really think someone killed him?" she finally asked, the words seeming painful to her.

Mac nodded. "I don't know too many details, and I'm too close to the case to be involved…"

"I know," she sighed. "I just…I don't get it. Who would kill Frank? Stella Bonasera interviewed me…"

"She told me."

"It's funny, you know? I've read thousands of statements, heard countless interviews, but until you're on the other side of it, you don't really know how it feels."

"How did it feel?" he prompted.

"Surreal," she laughed dryly. "Somewhere in the back of my head, I kept thinking that I should be sitting on the other side of the table, next to Stella. It was strange being the one who had to answer the questions. Honest to God, it felt like I fell down the rabbit hole or something." With a sigh she ran her hands through her dark hair. "I think I need to go to bed. I haven't slept for shit and I'm just so tired."

"Yeah...you should rest."

"Thank you. For being there for me the past couple of days. You don't know what it meant."

"I'm glad I could be here for you," he replied. "And I am here…whenever you need me."

Her smile grew sad as she looked up at him, her hair falling over her face. He'd always thought she was a beautiful woman, even teased Frank over the years, asking how he ended up with a looker like Drea. Despite the stress of the past week, he had to admit she looked more beautiful than ever tonight.

Reprimanding himself, he allowed her to escort him to the door. She gave him a hug, thanking him again and inviting him to come to dinner next weekend. She promised she'd make Frank's recipe for stuffed shells. He accepted her invitation, and then told her that he'd call her in the morning to check in on her. After another hug, he left.

It took him a while to fall asleep that night, despite the whiskey he'd downed. Once he was asleep, Drea haunted his dreams in a very erotic way. When he woke at dawn, he felt slightly hung over and strangely guilty. Unable to fall back to sleep, but not feeling up to his morning run, Mac showered and went into the office.

Stella had left him a voice mail, letting him know that they had a suspect in Frank's murder and would be bringing the person in for questioning. She wanted to talk to him before they did. He'd intended to call her back, but got a call to a crime scene and didn't get a chance.

When he returned to the lab three hours later, Stella was waiting in his office.

"Sorry I didn't call you back," he said as he walked into the office. "You said you had a suspect in Frank's murder?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah, they're down in interrogation now."

"Great. Who is it?"

Stella's expression was grim. "Drea Cesarone."


	2. Chapter 2

Mac stood looking through the two way glass into the interrogation room, watching as Stella and Don Flack were questioning Drea. She sat, across the table from them, her back straight, her head held high, wearing her game face.

"Come on, Drea," Stella said, her tone friendly, "You have to know that we wouldn't bring you down here without good cause."

"I didn't kill Frank," she simply said.

Flack stepped up; his tone much calmer than it would be if he were interviewing a normal suspect. "Frank died of an over dose of Inderal. The only fingerprints we found on the bottle of Inderal were yours and Frank's."

"And how do you know that the medication came from that bottle?" she countered.

"The prescription was refilled on Thursday for a thirty day supply and there were only four pills left," Flack replied, "Where else do you think they came from?"

"I don't know, Detective Flack," she countered. "I picked up that bottle for Frank at lunch on Thursday. He took one Friday morning and one Saturday morning, while I watched. I have no idea where the other 24 pills went."

"Let's go over Saturday again, okay?" Stella tried, "What time did you wake up?"

"Around seven thirty."

"And where was Frank when you woke up?"

"I'm not sure but I would guess in the kitchen, as that's where I found him half an hour later after I took a shower."

Stella nodded, "And how were things that morning? Between the two of you?"

"Good," she shrugged, "It was a nice day and he said he was going to sit out on the patio and read his new Clive Cussler novel."

"And what time did you leave the house?"

"Around 11."

Flack continued, "And where did you go?"

"I went shopping," she replied.

"Which stores?"

She thought for a moment, "Let's see….I went to BCBG Max Azria, LaPerla, Nine West, Saks…."

"Quite a shopping spree," Stella smiled. "I'm sure you have credit card receipts?"

"If I spent any money, I would have," was her sheepish reply. "I saw a few things I wanted, but they either didn't have my size or didn't look right when I tried them on."

"And this kept you out of the house until 5?"

"I stopped for lunch, too," she said, "At Isabella's. I had the wild mushroom bisque and a Caesar salad." She looked at Stella, "I paid cash."

"Help us out here, Drea," Flack tried, "You have any proof that you were where you say you were?"

"My word," she replied, then, "But then again, that doesn't count for much in a murder investigation."

"What happened when you got home?"

"I walked into the house, dropped my purse on the sofa, took off my jacket and called out for Frank. He didn't answer. The tv was on in the kitchen, so I figured he was in there watching some old movie or something while he made dinner. I walked in and found him lying on the kitchen floor."

"What did you do then?" Stella asked.

Mac watched as grief etched itself onto Drea's features, "I knelt down next to him and shook him, trying to get him to wake up. I didn't feel a pulse, so I called 911 on my cell and then started trying to resuscitate him."

"Why did you call 911 first?" Flack asked.

She looked at him as if surprised by the question, "I don't know…I guess I thought that the sooner I called the sooner they'd get there? I…" she shrugged, "I don't know."

"How long did it take the EMT's to get there?" Flack continued.

"I didn't track it. It felt like hours, but if I had to guess, maybe ten minutes?"

He looked at the folder on the table and read the top page, "Seven and a half minutes," he said, looking back up at her. "They arrived in seven and a half minutes. Did you do CPR the whole time?"

She nodded, "I thought that if I kept going until they got there, that some how he'd be okay…"

"The pronounced him dead at the scene," Flack concluded.

Drea nodded, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Drea," Stella quietly said, "Were you and Frank having trouble with money?"

"No," Drea answered, sniffing back her earlier tears, "He thought we were, but things were fine."

"Then why didn't you buy anything when you went out shopping?"

"I told you, they either didn't have my size or it looked like hell when I put it on. I'm not going to waste money on things that I won't wear."

Flack studied her for a moment, "I thought you said you weren't having money problems."

"We aren't, but why would I spend money if I didn't have to?"

He nodded. "Why did you spend cash at the restaurant?"

Mac watched as color flared in Drea's cheeks, he could tell she was nearing her breaking point.

"Detective Flack, I wasn't born to a rich family," she said, her voice strained, "My dad was a shop foreman and my mom didn't work. I learned at an early age how to handle my money and have not forgotten it."

"Drea," Stella tried with a smile, "You know how this works, we've got to try every angle."

"I know, Stella, I know," she sniffed, "But you're wasting time with me. I didn't do it."

"Put yourself in our position, Drea," Flack said, "You've got nothing to corroborate your story."

"Yeah, I know," she shrugged, "But I'm telling the truth. I didn't kill Frank."

XXXXX

Mac walked into Stella's office to find her pouring over a file. When she looked up at him, she smiled.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he returned with a nod. "How's it going?"

"Mac," she knowingly said, "You know I can't…"

"I know," he nodded.

"But," she quietly said, "You do need to know something…"

"What?"

"Drea gave us a list of stores she claimed to have shopped at on Saturday. She also said she ate at Isabella's. However, she doesn't appear on any of the security cameras at those stores."

"What about Isabella's?" He asked, hoping his tone didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

"We checked the register receipts at Isabella's – one diner did eat what she claimed to have had for lunch and paid cash," Stella confirmed. "So that puts her on Fifth Avenue at four pm. But the quesiton is, where was she the rest of the day?"


	3. Chapter 3

He'd picked up the phone to call Drea twice, each time hanging up before he finished dialing. This wasn't something he could confront her with over the phone. He needed to see her, to ask her in person where she was on Saturday afternoon.

His gut told him that there was no way Drea could have killed Frank, but his head had to admit that the evidence pointed squarely to her. He could understand if she didn't appear on one of the security camera films, but all of them? No, that wasn't possible.

By all rights, Stella and Don should be picking Drea up right now. Stella was about to call Don when Mac had walked into her office. She'd explained the situation to him and before he could stop himself, he asked her to give him until morning to get Drea to disclose her whereabouts.

Stella allowed him the time, telling him that if Drea didn't come into the office by noon, she would have no other choice but to pick her up. Now, as he stood at Drea's door, he said a silent prayer that his gut was right.

Drea opened the door for him and ushered him in. "Come on in," she said, closing the door behind him. "By the look on your face, this isn't just a social call."

"Drea," he began, following her into the living room, "We need to talk."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, then calmly, "About?"

Mac decided to be direct. "Where were you on Saturday?"

"I told you…" she began, but he held up a hand.

"I know what you told us, but where were you really?"

"What? What are you talking about?" she asked, not quite as surprised as she should have been.

"You gave Don and Stella a list of stores you visited on Saturday, but you didn't buy anything. So what do you think they did?"

"Looked at the security tapes," she tiredly said, "And I didn't show up on any of them."

Mac raised a brow, watching as she walked to the windows. "Where were you, Drea?"

Drea turned and looked out at the Manhattan skyline. ""If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

He followed her to the window and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me...then I'll tell you if I believe you."

She took a deep breath, and then let it go. "Walking."

"Walking?"

"Yes. I was supposed to meet Michael Cutter. I expected we'd be in a very expensive motel room before the afternoon was over."

Mac turned her around, made her look at him. "What?"

"It started so innocently, I swear to God, Mac," she sighed, "but as time went by, and Frank and I drifted farther apart -- what with my hours and his retirement and gambling habit -- I just...I needed...."

"Yes?" Mac prompted. Seeing her hesitancy, he continued. "Its okay, Drea...go ahead. You can level with me."

She smiled, her features showing the stress of the past week, and shook her head. "I was going to cheat on Frank. I had made up my mind to do it, but when the time came, I couldn't. I couldn't cheat. I loved him too much, despite our problems."

Mac nodded, glad to hear Drea say that she hadn't strayed. "And?"

"And I spent the afternoon walking the city. I needed to get out, get moving, clear my head. Can you understand that?" she asked, her eyes begging him to understand. "It wasn't that I didn't love Frank any more...it was that without his career, he wasn't the man I fell in love with and he knew it, Mac. I know he did. So after walking around all day I went home thinking that I could talk him into finding something to do, a hobby, a part-time job, and maybe we could even do something together, but...well, you know...."

Her words caused the puzzle pieces to fall into place and Mac said, "He took those pills himself. He didn't give himself a chance. He didn't give you a chance. He sought a long-term solution to a short-term problem."

"He did." Drea buried her face in her hands and sobs racked her body. "Damn him...you know he always had to be the one to have the answers, Mac..."

"I know, Drea," Mac murmured, embracing her. "He was his work...and when he didn't have it, he was nothing."

"Exactly! And when he needed me most, when he needed me to be there for him, to help him, I was fantasizing about a colleague."

"But you didn't go through with it," he said forcefully, pulling away, tipping her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

"No," she whispered, returning Mac's stare. "I didn't. I couldn't."

"Drea…" He wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he found himself becoming lost in her eyes. He leaned close, allowing his lips to brush hers. Feeling her lips press back against his, he relaxed into the kiss, holding her tight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, as their tongues tangled. Her hunger nearly took his breath away and he pulled back, studying her face. "Drea…"

"Don't," she said, pulling away from him, "Just don't." She turned back to the window, back to the skyline. "You should go."

"Drea…" he tried again, but she wouldn't have it.

"I'll come down and talk to Don Flack tomorrow morning, okay?"

"If you need anything…"

She shook her head, "I don't. I won't. Please, Mac. Before we do something we'll both regret, just go."

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm a phone call away," he quietly said, then turned and walked to the door.

He stopped, his hand on the door knob, looking back to find that she hadn't turned around. Tiredly, he opened the door. "Good night, Drea," he said, then walked out of the apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

A particularly gruesome murder in Little Italy kept Mac out of the office for most of the morning. He hadn't really slept after leaving Drea's apartment and by the time he left the crime scene, he was tired and frustrated.

While he worked the scene with Danny and Sheldon, Mac had Drea firmly at the back of his mind. She had promised to come in and talk to Stella and Flack this morning. He hadn't received a call from either one, so he assumed she had.

Before going his own office, he walked into Stella's . She sat at her desk, engrossed in something on the computer. Hearing him walk into the room she looked up. Her expression was not a happy one.

"What happened?" he asked, a sinking dread gripping him.

Stella took a breath and released it. "Drea's in Lock Up."

"What?" he snapped, forcing back his temper. "She was coming in to explain…"

"And she did," Stella interrupted.

"Then why is she in Lock Up? She didn't do it…follow the leads…"

Stella held up a hand. "Mac, we are. I've got Sid looking at the autopsy results again and Lindsay reprocessing evidence to see if it jives with suicide."

"And that still doesn't explain why Drea is in lock up," he insisted. "She told you the whole story, didn't she? She was going to meet her coworker…"

"She told us that she was going to meet a potential lover," Stella cautioned, "But she wouldn't reveal anything about him."

"She what?"

"She refused to tell us who he was," Stella explained. "We can't prove her alibi unless we talk to him, Mac. You know that."

Mac took a moment to calm himself, "So, she allowed herself to be arrested…"

Stella nodded. "She said she'd wait for our evidence to prove her innocence. She didn't want to expose his name for fear it would damage his career or current relationship. I tried to explain that we'd keep this quiet, but she knows better, Mac. She's an ADA…word gets around."

"So she's going to sit in a cell and hope that reviewing the evidence supports suicide. And if it doesn't?"

"I'm trying to give her a couple of hours to change her mind before I call the DA's office to take her to arraignment court. She hasn't formally been arrested, she's just being held…"

Mac nodded, "What if this mystery person comes forward on their own?"

"Do you know who it is?" Stella asked. "Because if you do, Mac…"

"Give me an hour, Stella. If I don't produce this mystery man, I'll disclose the name to you…"

"Mac…"

"An hour, Stella, that's all I ask…"

"An hour. That's it."

"Thanks," he said, walking out of the office.

XXXXX

Mac made it to Hogan Place in record time. As he made his way down the hallway, he hoped that Michael Cutter was actually in his office, not in court.

Cutter's secretary greeted him as he walked in. "May I help you, Sir?"

"I'm here to see Michael Cutter," Mac tersely said.

"Do you have an appointment, Mr…"

Mac held up his badge, "It's Detective. Detective Mac Taylor from the Crime Lab. I need to speak to him regarding an active case. It's time sensitive…"

"That may be, Detective, but he's preparing for court…"

"Look…" he began, but Cutter's voice cut him off.

"What's this about?" he said, stepping into the doorway.

Mac turned to him, "I need to speak to you, regarding evidence an active criminal investigation…"

"I'm a DA, Detective Taylor," Cutter affably said, "I am not sure what I'd be able to help you with…"

"Can we speak in private? It will only take a minute," Mac replied, his tone letting Cutter know he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

"Come in," Cutter said, stepping back.

Mac walked into the office and watched as Cutter shut the door behind him.

"What's this about, Detective?"

"Drea Cesarone," Mac said, watching as Cutter's brows rose.

"What about Drea?"

"Drea is about to be charged with her husband's murder," Mac went on, watching as Cutter processed his declaration.

"Drea couldn't have killed Frank," Cutter dismissed. "She wouldn't…"

"I know," Mac agreed, then, his tone quiet, but firm "She told the detectives that she'd gone to meet a potential lover that day. That she'd been contemplating cheating on Frank, but when it came down to it, she just couldn't do it."

Cutter nodded, his features forming a fond smile, but he said nothing.

"The problem is, Mr. Cutter, that she wouldn't divulge the name of this potential lover."

"She wouldn't?" he asked, seeming surprised.

Mac shook his head, "No, she didn't want to expose his name. She didn't want it to affect his career or his current relationship."

Cutter nodded, "And you're here because you know it's me and you want me to come forward."

Mac nodded.

Cutter smiled, "I knew she wouldn't go through with it. I'm fairly sure I wouldn't have either, but we agreed to meet in the lobby of the Pierre. She was nervous, fidgeting, so I suggested we have a drink and talk it through before we did anything we'd regret. We walked into the bar, sat, had a glass of scotch and talked."

He paused, gazing out the window for a moment, before continuing, "We'd talked a lot…over the past few months. We'd stay late working on case prep, order dinner, and end up talking. After a while, I guess we started thinking of each other as a bit more than coworkers, a bit more than friends. About a week before Frank died, we shared a kiss…it was unplanned, spontaneous….and very nice. And it lead us towards the decision to meet…"

"Whose decision was it to walk away?" Mac asked. He needed to hear it from Cutter's mouth.

"I'd like to say it was mutual," Cutter softly laughed, "But, to be honest. If she wouldn't have walked away, I would have gone through with it. Drea's…a beautiful woman. Bright, intelligent…sexy…" Mac felt Cutter study him for a moment, then, "And I can see that she means a great deal to you as well."

Mac opened his mouth to speak, but Cutter interrupted him.

"You wouldn't be here if she didn't," he concluded, then massaged his temples. "She has no idea that you're here, does she?"

"No."

"You do know she'll be royally pissed at both of us, don't you?"

"Frankly, I don't care," Mac smartly said. "I can't sit back and watch her ruin her life out of guilt."

"Me either," Cutter agreed, then stood. "Give me the name of the Detective I need to speak to, I'll clear my schedule and head down right away."


	5. Chapter 5

Mac was waiting near her car when Drea was released from Lock Up. He watched as she walked from the building, unaware of his presence. She didn't look happy at all. As a matter of fact, she looked downright pissed.

As she approached her car, she spotted him. Her eyes narrowed and her voice came out as a hiss.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

He was ready for her wrath and matched her angry tone. "Trying to save you from throwing your life away to atone for a sin you didn't commit."

She cocked her head. "Oh, excuse me, Father Taylor; you're in the business of saving souls too?"

"I'm in the business of saving lives," he countered.

"My life was not in danger."

"Drea, you were sitting in lock up. You know what would've happened ff Stella had called the DA's office to take you to arraignment court. You'd be on your way to Bayview…"

"I supposedly murdered an ex-cop – that warrants maximum security," she corrected him haughtily. "It would have been Bedford Hills."

"With how many women that you sent there?" he went on, grasping her by the arm and holding tight. "How long do you think you'd be in general population before someone found out who you are and spread the word?"

She didn't reply but continued to glare at him.

"Or didn't you think of that?" he concluded.

"I thought of it," she admitted.

He raised a brow. "I never pictured you for a martyr."

"Come again?"

"You feel so guilty about almost cheating on Frank that you'd put your life in danger…"

"That's not it at all…" she argued, anger rising.

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't," she yelled, jerking away.

"Well, if it isn't, then tell me what it is, then?"

She sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. "It's about having my life picked apart by Stella Bonasera and Don Flack."

"It's none of their goddamn business what I was doing Saturday, while Frank was home alone, planning his death. And you know what else, Mac? I'm pissed at Frank for leaving me in this mess in the first place! And pissed at myself for making him feel like he couldn't come to me with whatever was bothering him. He sought a long-term solution to a short-term problem. I'm his wife...he should've come to me, felt like he could come to me, no matter what."

Mac let her take a deep breath and try to calm herself before speaking again. When he did, his voice was soft. "Listen, Drea, that all may be true, but you are the prime suspect in his death. You know as well as anyone -- hell, better than anyone -- what Stella and Flack are thinking. You know they like you for Frank's death. And if you're not going to be completely honest with them, I'm not sure I can help you."

"What if I don't want your help?"

"Come off it, Drea. You need my help and you know it. I doubt you'd find Bedford Hills as much to your liking as you do your nice apartment, with your own kitchen, your own living room, your own bathroom...and your own bed. You've been there. I don't need to tell you what it'd be like."

"No, Mac, you don't," she finally replied, tears threatening. "And I do need your help. You've got to get that bitch Stella off my back."

He held up his hands. "Wait a sec--"

"What, Mac? Don't call my colleague a bitch?" Drea laughed snippily. "That's all she's been to me since the investigation began. The wasted, ill-advised, no good fucking investigation. She already thinks I'm guilty. She's already thinking I'll end up in Bedford Hills."

"That may be," Mac allowed, "but damn it, Drea, you can't afford to get an attitude with Stella. You've got to open up to her. I've already done more than I should for you. I am personally involved. I cannot be personally involved."

"Oh well, too late for that, isn't it?" Drea retorted. Seeing Mac flinch, she dropped her voice and reached out to him. "Mac…I…."

He sidestepped her hand and in a tight voice said, "When you're ready to save your ass, you know where to find me." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

XXXXX

There was something relaxing about his office late at night. For most people it would be the window, with the panoramic view of the city lights that could hold your attention for hours, but for Mac it was the silence that calmed him, the peace of being alone, yet close to the lab. He could work here until early morning without being disturbed by the night shift.

As he poured through results of a chemical analysis, he sound of footsteps approaching his office pulled his attention from his reading. From the sound, he could tell it was a woman, in a pair of heels. Looking up, he discovered Drea Cesarone, standing in the doorway.

"Drea," he said, standing.

"Can I come in?" she asked, nervously.

He studied her for a moment, she looked like hell. Her skin was pale and her eyes didn't hold their usual sparkle. "Come on in…"

"I…" she began, "You were right…"

He didn't a word, waiting for her to continue.

"I don't know what I was thinking…I can't go to jail, Mac. I didn't kill Frank," she looked at him, "I need your help."

"My help…" he repeated.

Drea held up her hand, "Don't, please? Yes, I was a royal bitch to you today, but trust me; I've spent the past few hours beating myself up for it."

"I can tell," he said, his voice soft.

"So," she said, sitting on the chair across from his desk. "Will you help me?"

He knew he should tell her that he couldn't get further involved in this case, he'd already stuck his neck out further than he should have. She sat, across from him, trying hard to appear as if everything was okay, as if she had a grip on the situation. He knew better.

She hadn't even had time to mourn her husband when she was accused of his murder. She was an emotional wreck and it was starting to show. He couldn't walk away from her; he couldn't turn his back on Frank like that. He couldn't turn his back on her.

"I'll help you," he nodded, watching as a relieved smile spread across her features.

"Thank you, Mac," she quietly said.

"Don't thank me, yet." He dryly said, "Let's see what we can come up with…"


	6. Chapter 6

XXXXX

"So Drea tracked her steps for you?" Danny Messer asked, looking at the paper Mac was holding in his hand.

"She really did wander around the city…" Mac said, shaking his head.

"Can I see?"

Mac handed the paper to Danny and watched as the younger CSI reviewed Drea's neatly written notes.

"She left the Pierre and walked through Central Park to 72nd, then she took Columbus to the restaurant…" Danny looked up at Mac, "Why the heck did she go all the way over there for lunch?"

"She didn't go there specifically," Mac explained, "She was walking, trying to clear her head…"

Danny nodded, "So, how do we prove that she was walking through Central Park and not killing her husband."

"She didn't stop, didn't purchase anything until she got to the restaurant. She just walked…"

"She walked," Danny echoed, clearly on a roll. "Past NYPD traffic cameras…park surveillance cameras…"

"That's it! She'd be on tape!" Mac decided, "But they recycle those tapes every few days…."

"Hopefully, they haven't recycled them yet," Danny agreed, "I'm on it, Mac. Call ya once I have something." With that, Danny sprinted out of Mac's office.

He nearly knocked Stella over on the way in the door, "Where's he off to?"

"Traffic Division," Mac said, "Drea traced her steps for us and Danny's going to see if she showed up on any traffic cameras or surveillance cameras from Central Park."

"Good," Stella nodded, then, "I thought you weren't involved in this investigation, Mac."

"I'm not," he dismissed, "A suspect handed me a piece of evidence, I passed it on to Danny."

Stella shook her head, "You're walking on the edge."

"Did you come in here to remind me of that or did you have another reason?" was his terse reply.

Stella shook off his response and explained, "Sid re-examined Frank's stomach contents. Besides the 24 Inderals, there was vodka."

"We knew that," Mac dismissed.

"Right, but what was strange was the amount of Vodka…." Stella went on. "Only 6 ounces, the amount poured into a standard tumbler. He could, foreseeably, drink down those pills with that much vodka…but if Drea were to try to dissolve the pills, she would have needed much more liquid to do so."

"Assuming she didn't force him to take the pills," Mac tried.

"We looked at that angle too," Stella agreed, "She could have."

Mac nodded, processing the information. "So, we have two scenarios. Either Frank took the pills himself or some how, Drea coerced him into it."

Stella nodded. "Reaction time for the Inderal is 30 minutes, Sid put the time of death at 2:00. Which means Drea would have to have been in the house by 1:30…"

"And she said she returned at 5," Mac added, "We have testimony from her next door neighbor that he spoke to Drea when she arrived home, so we know she entered the house at 5."

"We have her confirmed at the restaurant at 4. But, she could have gone home, poisoned Frank and go back out for lunch?"

Mac knew that Drea couldn't have been that cold hearted. Forcing back his initial urge to defend her, he calmly said, "Neighbor said he was home from his errands at 2:30 and went out to get his mail at 5. He didn't hear any sound at all from next door."

Stella nodded, "Okay, so let's hope that Danny's traffic camera theory can prove she was in the Park the whole time."

XXXXX

An hour and a half later, Mac stood in the lab processing a hair fiber. As he bent to look through the microscope, he heard footsteps running down the tile hallway. He jerked his head up to see Danny running into the lab.

"Danny…" Mac began, ready to lecture Danny on proper lab behavior.

"Just talked to Stella," Danny excitedly began, waving a stack of printed photos. "We cleared Drea."

"What?" Mac asked, holding back his excitement.

"Traffic cameras have her exactly where she said she was during the time that Frank od'd…."

Mac took the pictures from him and flipped through the stack, looking at each time stamped photo. Drea, dressed in a dark coat and a pair of black high heeled boots appeared in each shot. He studied her face and although it was mostly in profile, he could see the emotion written on it in each shot.

"Mac," Danny called for the third time.

"Yeah, Danny?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You're sorry for…"

"That Frank offed himself," he seriously said, "I didn't want to find out that Drea killed him, but I hate it when a good cop goes out that way."

"Yeah, me, too, Danny. Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

It was nearly 9:30 by the time Drea Cesarone walked into the lobby of her apartment building. Stella Bonasera had called around 5 and told her that she'd been cleared. After Stella's call, the stress she'd been carrying seemed to evaporate instantly.

The downside of that stress evaporating, however, was that now, the grief over losing her husband hit her. Hard. Once more, she had taken to the street, walking off the tension and trying to deal with the grief. Without realizing it, she had walked home. Now that she stepped into the well lit lobby, the adrenaline seemed to leave her body, making her feel more tired than she'd been in ages. She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and her bed.

She spotted him as she walked to the elevators. She tried to muster a smile when she spotted him and failed miserably.

"Drea," Mac warmly said, walking to her.

"Mac."

"I…I'm not sure why I came," he admitted.

"You wanted to make sure I was okay?" she offered.

"That was part of it."

"I'm okay," she lied.

He smiled. "You've always been a lousy liar."

"Apparently," she sniffed, then, "I just walked home from work and I'm about to drop."

"I'll go…"

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. Come on up. Have a drink with me. It's the least I can do."

XXXXX

One drink turned into a few. When the mantle clock struck midnight, they both looked up, surprised at the time.

"Damn," Drea said, "It's late."

"I should go," Mac agreed, standing. "Let you get some sleep."

She laughed, "Sleep, yeah, that would be something different."

"It will get easier," he said, hoping he sounded convincing. "It's going to take time."

She nodded, "You're right, I know. This has just been such an ordeal…."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this."

"No, I think it was a good thing, in a way. It put things into perspective for me, made me see that I need to make some changes in my life…" she looked around the room. "First order of business is finding a new place to live. Too many memories here."

Mac nodded, as they walked to the door. "The move itself is hard."

"I have no doubt it will be."

"If you need help…" he began.

"You've been there so much for me already," she smiled, her eyes catching his and holding them. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I'm glad I was here," he said, watching as her expression softened. She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, then pulled back.

"You know Mac," she said, with a sad smile, "another time and another place, maybe we'd be something. But ..."

"I know. You just lost your husband. You need time." He pulled her into his arms, "Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what you need."

"Thanks, Mac," she smiled, opening the door.

"Drea…" He wanted to say something more, but couldn't find the words.

She leaned forward and kissed him again, this time, more passionately, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tight, breathing in her scent, returning the kiss with a hunger and a need of his own. For a moment, time stood still, nothing mattered, and then, slowly, they parted.

"I…need to go," he said with a soft laugh.

"You do," she smiled, watching as he walked into the hall. "Take care, Mac."


End file.
